[private] love from the west; wolfbane - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Loess (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=88) +----- Thread: [private] love from the west; wolfbane (/showthread.php?tid=22263) |
love from the west; wolfbane - Wishbone - 12-23-2018 living for the past because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before. Although she doesn’t regret leaving the familiar, Wishbone’s stomach gives a strange little twist as the smells of limestone and freshwater brooks grow stronger. Her mind is swimming, caught in a confusing hurricane of doubts and memories, and her throat is dry. Her slender mahogany hips turn away from Loess’s border more than once, but within a few steps, she is twisting again. Wishbone is certain this is the closest she has come to fear. Even while exploring uncharted waters. Even while staring into the face of a pale, hairless creature. Even while tasting the thin air from atop a mountain’s summit. She wonders if this trip to Loess — neither political nor written with romantic whispers — will be a death sentence. Or perhaps it will be an open door. Wishbone’s heart nearly drops into the Earth’s core at the thought of reaching the border, yet the journey from Nerine to Loess is over in the blink of an eye. Inhale. It is shuddering and weak. Exhale. It is forceful and nervous. Wishbone tucks herself along the spiky barbs of a cactus (perhaps to protect herself from the fright of the unknown that lies before her) and waits as patiently as her nerves will allow her. If he is here, he will know. She hopes that if he knows, he will come. @[Wolfbane] / this is poopy, but it's here RE: love from the west; wolfbane - Wolfbane - 12-28-2018 My dreams have all come true Like all good nightmares do @[Wishbone] ~ghosty bone~ RE: love from the west; wolfbane - Wishbone - 12-30-2018 living for the past because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before. Wishbone can still remember the last time she had seen him. Loess was their backdrop and steaming, warmed pools of freshwater had been the foreground. He’d slipped into the water with all the skillful practice of someone born on an island and it had reminded her of the time he’d saved her from the pull of the ocean. Those damned whales had been intoxicating to her young mind, daring her to drag her legs through the currents to join them. She’d probably drowned if Wolfbane hadn’t been there. In fact, she can think of many times she would have drowned (or been burnt alive or broken a leg or choked or suffocated or sliced her skin open) if Wolfbane hadn’t been there. A smile comes to her mouth from beneath the scant shadow of the cactus at the thought of how annoyed he must have been, always running to save the wild girl that taunted death closer. He must have been so weary. Wishbone had thought he’d leave her in the days of their youth, choosing instead to pursue some meek, gentle mare who would be the makings of a mother for his children. He hadn’t, at least in those days, and their young friendship had blossomed into something crafted with warmth and even warmer touches beneath the light of a Nerinian glow-worm cavern. The autumn breeze brings the scent of familiarity; the musk and limestone of him drags her away from her nostalgia and worry. Amber eyes catch against olive ones. His voice soothes the last of her anxiety away, as though a roughened, familiar hand were running itself across a wrinkled sheet. The corners and ripples of her nerves disappear. “Bane.” Wishbone takes a few steps past and around the protection of the cactus and the afternoon sun catches the mahogany of her curves. “I got bored.” There is only so much newness a wanderer can absorb — even a passionate one — before they crave home. It might forever be a reckless battle: settle into the comfortable curves of home, desire the thrill of discovery and adventure, spend some time discovering and adventuring, desire the comfortable curves of home, and return home. For a flickering moment, Wishbone wonders if there is enough of Beqanna to sate her wandering heart and her wild spirit. She pushes those thoughts aside in favor of the truth — she is back now. Her gaze scans his body now, searching for the markings time must have surely put on him. “You look older.” A pause. “You’re still king.” It’s a statement rather than a question or an accusation. She’d heard the whispers on her way to him. “It sounds like you’re doing better than I did. Your dad would be proud.” Wishbone doesn’t mean to get sentimental, but the sight of his face (if not slightly older and more mature) dredges up the memories of their childhood and, therefore, their parents. A slight frown tugs at one corner of her sable mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up.” She knows it’s a tender topic. @[Wolfbane] ~rambling, awkward bone~ RE: love from the west; wolfbane - Wolfbane - 12-31-2018 King of Loess : Leader of the Southlands Wolfbane @[Wishbone] RE: love from the west; wolfbane - Wishbone - 01-05-2019 living for the past because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before. Wolfbane smiles (a wide, warm expression that stretches into the olive of his eyes; she notices the absence of the pale fangs from his mouth) and she can feel the crackling fire of home against her high, defined cheekbones. It brings her own expression onto her face, one that is summery and dangerous and crackling with the spirit Wishbone never fails to carry with her. Despite the quickness of her disappearance and the silence that came with it, she cannot deny that Wolfbane has been the closest thing to home throughout her life. Tephra carries a piece of familiarity with it alongside Nerine; her parents are influential in her childhood; Solace and Svedka are her siblings to their core — but Wolfbane has been a constant in her life since the very beginning. When his lips touch the corner of her mouth, she curls herself closer to him. Wishbone has never been one to shy away from publically expressing her desires and affections, even with the weight of a crown on her head. Perhaps that is something of her chaotic carelessness, but for this moment in time it is brought upon by the ache of time separated and the familiarity his golden sides bring her. Wolfbane’s bright blue nose explores her face and his scent washes away the sharp smells of foreign lands. “I should have told you.” Her honey-whiskey voice is equally as quiet in the rose-gold of their reunion. She’d thought about leaving him a note or a memento so he didn’t think she’d died (a true goodbye would have been too difficult, even for her), but the idea only came to her when she was upon some steep mountain with thin air and open skies. It is perhaps the only thing Wishbone regrets from her endeavor — leaving him with nothing more than cold flanks and lonely nights. Wishbone would apologize again if he hadn’t already hushed her. His mouth pauses at her forehead, blue nose mingling with tangled dark tresses of her forelock, and Wishbone feels her entire body still in the silence. She is a doe held under the trap of his silence, waiting with a tender breath and an impatient heart to hear his judgment. When his question comes, it shatters the glass that encapsulated her. Wishbone’s dark mouth moves to kiss the slope of his golden chest. It’s a surprisingly brief action, but only because her lips are moving up toward the curve of his neck, placing tender yet firm kisses up the line of his throat and under his jaw. She can’t help but think about how damned much she’s missed him. Her mouth moves from the shadow of his jaw up toward the plane of his cheek and against the cream of his mohawk mane. Wishbone places a sweet, long touch to the skin just below his ear before whispering, “Yes, Bane.” She doesn’t know if there are other lovers in his life or if she will stay in Loess, but she will stay in Beqanna and she will stay curled against him today. “I’ve missed you.” It feels like a dam has burst in her chest to finally say those words out loud and for him to hear them. “I’ve loved you every single day I’ve been gone.” @[Wolfbane] |